


Written in Water

by Ahhuya



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Fluff, M/M, sinja zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 14:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahhuya/pseuds/Ahhuya
Summary: One set of lonely footsteps travels to the beach each morning. One day, they're not alone.





	Written in Water

**Author's Note:**

> I had the honor to be a part of sinjazine. It was so amazing to have this be my first zine, especially since I've loved this pairing for so many years.  
> Now that the zine is done, enjoy~

Every morning, a set of footsteps appeared in the sand, heading for the water’s edge. Two lonely feet stood at the edge of the island before the sun started to rise. By the time the island would be soaked in light, the feet had long turned back, only to stop again inside the palace. The waves would set peace inside the busy mind, their coming and going carrying away the problems that stacked on top of each other every day. There was too much to take care of. After all, Sindria didn’t exist for that long yet. Not this Sindria at least.... There was a lot to rebuild.

Water licked at Ja’far’s feet in the early morning, as it did every time he walked down to the beach. His shoes got wet, but at the time he didn’t care. The feeling was calming. There was too much to arrange, too much to worry about, and too many people wanting to restart their lives along with their new country. It might have been more than a year and the circumstances might have been different, but the past still marked him. Literally. He never expected to be so glad that the scales on his chest disappeared whenever his metal vessel was dormant. Yet, his right arm never started to feel like his own again. It was too new, too unmarked, unused to the ropes cutting in his flesh. But, in the end, they were consequences he could live with. After all, he was still alive. 

Through the soft sound of waves crashing on the coast, there were footsteps behind him, softened by the sand, but audible to the trained ear.

“You seem worried.” Were the first words Ja’far would hear that morning. It was a voice heard far earlier than Ja’far had expected.

“With you being up already, I think you are more worried than I am.” Ja’far noted as he reached behind him, finding contact with his king. The gesture was answered with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“We have all right to be, don’t we?” Sinbad laughed. “We’re starting all over again.”

Ja’far nodded, the ocean trying its best to wash his worries away. Once he left the beach, there would be no ocean to take care of him. But was such a thought really true? There had been an ocean waiting for him before he ever thought about his future: An ocean he found in Sinbad’s open arms.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Ja’far asked, finally removing his gaze from the ocean, his hand moving up to Sinbad’s on his shoulder in the hope of finding comfort there. “What if we fail again?”

The lonely hand found a companion within seconds and was lifted up to be brushed against Sinbad’s cheek. “That won’t happen.” Was the first reassurance Ja’far got. “We picked this island for a reason, didn’t we? We have more allies now.”

“And we lost many as well.” ‘ _Even if we replaced them over the years’_ was the thought that followed immediately.

“They are still with us, watching over our dreams.” Sinbad squeezed his hand softly. It was true in some way, Ja’far guessed. On the hill behind the palace, they had created a memorial for that exact reason. Although no bodies lay buried there - the body count too high and many too burnt to be brought along for a proper burial -  it was the memory that counted. The memory of the first Sindria watching from the memorial over those who made it to the second attempt. Perhaps it was morbid, but most of all it served as a reminder to not make the same mistakes again.

“Is that what brings you here?” Sinbad asked when Ja’far had fallen silent for a longer time. “The worry that everything we build will be destroyed again?”

Ja’far couldn’t see Sinbad’s face, but he could feel the frown forming and the worry flowing through the air, mixing with the salt air from the ocean. 

“You don’t have to live through it again. If you want to go, then do so.” Sinbad added, his face leaning closer until Ja’far felt his long hair fall over his own shoulder.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to leave: not now, never would. From the first day lightning struck him down in Immchakk, something had been there that compelled him to follow. This feeling never left either. Here he still was, eleven years later, on the other side of the world doing everything he couldn’t even dream about. And if it _was_ a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

“I won’t leave,” Ja’far finally said, since he guessed Sinbad probably wanted an answer to his hidden question. “I told you I would follow you until the end, and both of us are still alive.”

“You haven’t killed me yet either!” Sinbad laughed, the sound traveling through Ja’far. “You only have to ask. It’s probably better than seeing you freak out about the wrinkles all this frowning is giving you.”

“If you don’t want to live with that, then stop worrying and return to the palace.” Sinbad offered.

Ja’far shook his head and let himself fall deeper into Sinbad’s embrace. Returning to the palace wouldn’t ease his worry. If anything, there was more to worry about over there. The unfinished building plans, the ceremonies, treaties… he didn’t want to think about it yet. Not if he could let all of it float away in Sinbad’s embrace.

“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of being a king? That you’ll leave the island and me behind to go on your own adventures again?” Ja’far asked as the soft sea breeze blew his hair across his face.

“Get tired of _this_?” Sinbad leaned closer, laying his head on top of Ja’far’s shoulder and smiling. He laughed softly. “Never. Besides,” as he buried his face deeper in the fabric of Ja’far’s keffiyeh, “If I were to go again, I would never leave you. We started this adventure together.”

“And the adventure never ends, does it?” Ja’far murmured.

“Not when it’s with you.” And Ja’far knew he meant it. He was being so sincere it almost hurt. They had found another safe haven for themselves, another attempt at creating a home.

It worked. They watched the ocean come and go until the sun was too high to ignore any longer. The next morning, no feet dragged themselves to the beach, staying locked in bed instead.

It wasn’t until years later that Ja’far found himself standing on the other side of the ocean. As he watched the waves come and go from what he once called home, he begged dead gods to change destiny once again.


End file.
